


Alarms, Latkes, and Complications

by Weareallstoriesintheend



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weareallstoriesintheend/pseuds/Weareallstoriesintheend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity are neighbors who have never met, but cooking disaster brings them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alarms, Latkes, and Complications

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hann789](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hann789/gifts).



> This is my Olicity Secret Santa fic for Hannah. I had such a good time writing this, I hope you have as much fun reading it. Let me know what you think. Happy Holidays.

Oliver closed the door to his darkroom with a satisfied smirk. Intent on saving his best friend/agent from a heart attack, he’d been in that room for hours to finish his latest project. Normally he wouldn’t mind stressing Tommy out, in fact he took great pleasure in it, but Oliver figured the other man had enough on his plate right now without worrying if Oliver would finish on time for his show.

Snagging his phone from the little table outside the darkroom, Oliver jogged lightly down the stairs. He thumbed through his missed calls and texts, and grinned when he saw the ones from Tommy. Impending fatherhood, combined with Laurel’s sudden nesting instinct, was driving his best friend a little crazy.  
Heeding the call of his stomach, Oliver headed toward his kitchen, texting Tommy on the way. After digging through his freezer he found a frozen pizza that would satisfy his hunger. As he turned to preheat the oven, the smell of smoke assaulted his nose. Setting the pizza on the counter, Oliver spun around to survey the room.  
There was no visible sign of smoke, but the smell was real. And getting stronger.

Sniffing the air, Oliver followed the smell to his front door. After carefully touching the doorknob to make sure it wasn’t hot, he opened the door and peered out into the hallway. Everything looked clear and he almost went back inside when he saw it. There was only one other apartment on this floor and he could just make out a small trail of smoke creeping from under the door. 

Oliver walked swiftly down the hall. As he approached he could hear the sound of a fire alarm going off inside the apartment. The shrill of the alarm got louder the closer he got. 

“Hello?” he called as he knocked on the door. “Are you okay?”

There was no response, but Oliver heard a crash followed by the sound of a woman swearing. Concerned that she was hurt, he tested the door and found it unlocked. 

The smell of smoke assailed his nose as he opened the door. Though the whole apartment seemed to be filled with it, Oliver noted no visible flames. 

“Hello?” he called again, louder this time. With fire alarm blaring he could barely hear himself.

“Just shut up!” came a voice from the kitchen.

Oliver followed the shouting, eyebrows raising at the truly creative swearing he heard coming from his neighbor. 

When he entered the kitchen it took him a minute to find her, then there she was: standing on her kitchen counter. At first all he could see was leg, just miles of creamy skin that seemed to go on forever. Her tiny shorts failed to cover much. Oliver finally tore his eyes away when he realized he was staring at her (fantastic) ass and had forgotten about the smoke.

“Do you need help?” he yelled.

The woman on the counter jumped when the sound of his voice reached her ears over the blare of the fire alarm. Oliver saw the second she lost her precarious balance and started to fall. Without a second thought, he shot forward and managed to catch her before she hit the ground. 

After steadying himself with her in his arms, Oliver looked down. All thoughts left his mind as blue eyes gazed back at him from behind thick-rimmed glasses. Her pink, glossy mouth was open slightly, and he became acutely aware of how she was plastered against him. 

He had one arm under her knees and the other wrapped around her waist, his hand spread out to encompass her rib cage. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck when he caught her, and he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest. The urge to lean down and kiss her was so powerful that he had to shake his head to clear it. 

What was wrong with him? He didn’t even know this woman’s name.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pitching his voice above the shrill of the fire alarm.

When she didn’t answer right away, Oliver began to get concerned that she had hurt herself. Just as he began to try and figure out if she was injured, she shook her head. She started squirming in his arms and Oliver was torn between needing her stop and wanting her to never stop.

It didn’t occur to him that she was trying to get down until she said, “Could you put me down please?”

Oliver set her down instantly, slightly embarrassed that he’d held onto her for so long. The second she left his arms, he missed the feeling of holding her. She was so much smaller than he originally thought, barely reaching his shoulder. 

“Do you think you could reach that thing and shut it up?” she yelled. 

He glanced up at the fire alarm. Boosting himself up on the counter she had just fallen off of, Oliver was able to easily reach the shrieking alarm. They both breathed a sigh of relief as the silence descended. 

With a small hop, Oliver landed on his feet next to her. The tiny blonde in front of him looked to be in a bit of shock and he wondered if she was actually injured. 

“Good thing you’re so big,” she blurted out, her cheeks turning red the instant the words left her mouth. He couldn’t stop the laugh the huffed from his throat, making her smile through her blush.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the help, and the catch - though that was kind of your fault - but who are you? And why are you in my home?” she asked, questions burning in her eyes.

“I’m Oliver. I live across the hall,” he told her, putting out his hand for her to shake.

“Hi, Oliver. I’m Felicity,” she put her hand in his and smiled up at him. Her hand was warm and soft, and he never wanted to let it go. “I’m sorry my fire alarm disrupted your evening.”

Dropping her hand before he did something stupid like caressing it with his thumb, Oliver leaned back and crossed his arms over chest completely missing the way her eyes flashed at the movement.

“Actually, it was the smell I noticed first. Did you burn something?”

“Oh God,” she blushed again. “This is so embarrassing. I was attempting to make latkes.”

Glancing behind her, he could see the still smoking pan on the stove. The smell was pretty bad too. 

“Kind of looks like your plans might be derailed now,” he said.

“I know,” she sighed, “I should know better, I’ve never been able to cook. My mom can’t cook either, not really, but she can make applesauce. Really good, amazing applesauce. She used to make it every year and we’d go to my grandmother’s for Hanukkah and she would make latkes. They were so good, especially with my mom’s applesauce. Then, when I got home from work tonight there was a package from my mom with her applesauce inside. She hasn’t made it for years and I suddenly had a craving for latkes to go with them.”

Oliver opened his mouth to respond, but shut it quickly when he realized she wasn’t done.

“So, I decided to make them. I didn’t have a recipe, but I’m a genius, right? It shouldn’t be that hard. Well, apparently, there are things I can’t figure out, because the next thing I knew, the latkes were scorched and my fire alarm was blaring!”

Felicity had been pacing throughout her story and ended standing directly in front of him. Her hands were on her hips, hair falling out of a ragged ponytail and he thought she was the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

“Would you like some help?” he heard himself ask before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth.

Felicity looked shocked.

“You know how to make latkes?”

“No,” he admitted, “But, I’m a pretty good cook. I bet between the two of us, we could figure it out.”

She bit her lip as she contemplated his offer. Oliver groaned internally at the sight.

“You should probably let this place air out for a while anyway. Why don’t we open some windows, then you can bring your supplies to my place and we’ll try again.”  
He wasn’t sure why he was pushing this so hard; all he knew was that he wasn’t ready to walk away from Felicity yet.

“Are you sure?” she hesitated, “I don’t want to interrupt your plans for the evening.”

“No plans,” he reassured her. “I was just about to heat up a frozen pizza and maybe watch a movie.”

“Would you mind if I took a shower first?” she asked after hesitating another minute. “I smell like smoke.”

“Sure. Why don’t you hand me your stuff and I’ll take it to my place. You can come over when you’re done.”

Felicity agreed and began piling things into a cloth grocery bag. Potatoes, onions, grater, matzo, olive oil and applesauce were quickly thrown in before she turned to him.

“I’ll be over in a few minutes?” she questioned.

Oliver nodded his head. He was glad she wasn’t coming over right away. It would give him a chance to make sure his place was decent.

“I’ll leave the door open, just come in when you’re done.”

He turned and headed toward her door.

“Oliver,” her voice called to him. He turned to see her standing there staring at him. “Thank you.”

He shot her a grin. “You’re welcome.”

 

As soon as he was back in his apartment, Oliver did a quick scan of the living room. Not bad. Spending so much time working lately meant he didn’t have time make much of a mess. The kitchen was also fine. He quickly wiped down the counter in the bathroom and lit one of the candles Thea had given him as a housewarming present. The scent of ocean breeze quickly filled the air.

On his way back to the kitchen, Oliver grabbed his laptop and brought up a site about cooking latkes. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Felicity that he was a good cook, but latkes were something he’d never tried before.

After reading through the article, which explained the best process for making the potato goodies, he got out everything he thought they would need: a frying pan, thermometer, and wire rack. He was unpacking the grocery bag Felicity gave him when he heard her come in.

“You’re just in time,” he told her as she walked into the kitchen. “I’ve just about got everything set up.”

“This was a mistake.”

Oliver’s head shot up. Felicity stood there looking completely anxious. Her hair was wet from her shower and she had pulled it back into a braid. The shorts, much to Oliver’s dismay, were gone only to be replaced by soft looking pajama pants with Yodas all over them. Her tank top looked like it might be covered in blue phone boxes, but he couldn’t be sure because she was currently twisting the material in her hands. 

“Felicity, is everything alright?” Oliver asked taking a step toward her, stopping only when she took a step backward. “What’s going on?”

“This was a bad idea,” she told him. “I should get my stuff and go.”

“I don’t understand. Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to be pushy,” he explained. He didn’t know exactly why, but he really wanted her to stay. “You seemed like you really wanted latkes and I figured that was something I could help you with, but if I made you uncomfortable…”

“Oliver, no,” she cut in, stepping forward to place a hand on his forearm. “You’ve been great. So helpful and sweet.”

“Then what?”

“I did some digging around after my shower. You’re… Oliver Queen,” she stated as if that explained it all. 

The thing was her comment could explain it all; he just wasn’t sure in what context. Was she put off by his former playboy ways? Was she intimidated by the Queen name? Was she one of those who thought his photography career had only taken off because of his parents?

“Yes, I’m Oliver Queen, which obviously seems to be a problem for you. Could you explain why?” Oliver asked, a little harsher than he intended, but he really liked her and once again his stupid name was screwing everything up.

“Who you are is not the problem, at least not for me. It’s more to do with who I am,” she said, which only served to confuse him even more.

“Who you are? What does that matter? You’re my neighbor Felicity.”

“Smoak.”

“Huh?”

“My last name is Smoak,” she stated in a matter of fact voice.

‘Oh’ was all he could think to say.

Felicity Smoak. The woman who had single-handedly created a technology empire and then proceeded to buy Queen Consolidated in what was deemed the “takeover of the decade”.

Now she here she was, in his apartment, looking at Oliver as if she expected him to yell at her, or kick her out. At the very least, she expected him to hate her. 

“Ok, let’s get a couple of things straight,” he started, fighting back a grin when he saw her straighten her spine as if preparing for battle. “First of all, I am not my parents. I never wanted the company, and frankly, I’m thrilled it’s yours now.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock and Oliver had to bite his lips to keep from smiling. Something told him that she wouldn’t appreciate it right at his moment. 

“But the press reported that you and your sister hated me and were threatening to sue me, or my company, I suppose,” she countered, unsure of what to believe.

Oliver snorted in derision. “The press just makes up whatever they want half the time. I’ve never had any interest in running Queen Consolidated and Thea even less so.”

Deciding to risk it, Oliver took a step toward her again. When she didn’t step back he took another and another until he was right in front of her. Looking into her gorgeous blue eyes, he reached for her hands and squeezed them.

“The second thing is that I should be thanking you.”

“Thanking me?” she squeaked out. “Why?”

“You probably saved my father’s life. And my parent’s marriage.”

“Really?”

“Felicity, my dad never left that office anymore. When we were kids he worked a lot, but at least he came home and had dinner with us. We’d even take family vacations. The last couple of years, though, the company had become an obsession. My mom would call me and tell me that he hadn’t bothered to come home for days. I’d have to go to the office and force him to go home.”

“Oh, Oliver… that must have been so hard on all of you.” He felt her hand squeeze his in sympathy.

“It was. Then you came along and took it all away and it was the best thing that could have happened. It was like he came out of a trance and began living again. In fact, he and my mom are on an extended European vacation right now.”

Felicity grinned up at him and he had to hold himself back from kissing her right then. He didn’t want to make her nervous again.

“Now, that that’s all cleared up, let’s make some latkes!” He pulled one of her hands up and kissed the back of it impulsively, enjoying the way her eyes widened in shock.

“Have you ever made them before?” she asked after he dropped her hands and walked back to where he was prepping the ingredients.

“No,” he admitted, “But, I was doing a little research while you were showering and they don’t look too complicated.”

“Research, huh?” she teased, coming up to perch on a stool next to the counter where he was working. “That’s usually my area of expertise.”

“Well, I thought we could go through the steps listed here together and then you could tell me any helpful hints you remember from when your grandmother would make them when you were a kid.” 

Felicity’s face lit up with a slow smile as he spoke.

“That sounds perfect.”

 

Together, the two of them worked through the recipe Oliver found online. It took them four attempts before they got it right. The latkes kept falling apart in the first batch. Then the oil was too hot and his place became almost as smoky as hers. The third time they were sure the latkes were right until they tasted them. Unfortunately, they had forgotten the salt and they were really bland.

The fourth batch, though, were amazing: crispy and salty on the outside, fluffy and creamy on the inside. Perfect. 

They ate them along with Donna Smoak’s famous applesauce, and a nice bottle of red wine Oliver had opened once he learned of Felicity’s love of the drink. They chatted for hours about nothing and everything. It was one of the best nights he could ever remember having.

At one point, they moved from the kitchen to the floor in front of the fireplace in his living room, the bottle of wine sitting between them. They were both leaning back against the couch, and Felicity was telling him a story about the time her mother tried to make cookies shaped like dreidels. 

As she proceeded with her story, Felicity’s gestures got more and more animated. Her face lit up as she recalled fun memories from her childhood. Oliver knew he should be listening, but he couldn’t focus on her words. He could only stare at her and marvel in how right this felt. Sitting here, with this woman, felt so right.

When one of her hands went past his face in a large, sweeping motion, Oliver reached out and grabbed it with one of his own. He slid his other hand onto her cheek, causing her to stop talking and stare at him.

Still not speaking, he leaned into her slowly, making his intentions as clear as possible without words. He kept his eyes on hers the whole time, and swallowed a groan at the way her eyes darkened as he continued to draw closer. Stopping just before his lips met hers, Oliver forced himself to wait. More than anything he wanted to crush his lips to hers and taste her, but it had to be her choice. He could feel her breath mingling with his and his heart beat wildly in anticipation of her decision. Would it be acceptance or rejection?

“Oliver,” she breathed before closing the gap between their mouths.

His eyes fluttered closed as their lips met. It was a simple kiss, mouths pressed together and it felt incredible. Never had a kiss shaken him to his core as this one did.  
Then Felicity let out the sweetest little sigh he ever heard, and he was done. Nothing could have stopped him from swiping his tongue across her bottom lip until she parted for him. She tasted like wine and applesauce and something completely new. He was sure he could be addicted to that unique taste.

When they finally separated, Oliver’s hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck. One of Felicity’s hands was in his hair while the other stroked his chest. He barely resisted arching against her hand like a cat, because it felt so good.

“Was there some mistletoe I missed?” Felicity teased, still out of breath. Their faces were still so close that he felt each puff of her tiny pants against his face.

“I don’t need mistletoe to want to kiss you, Felicity,” he told her. “I wanted to do that ever since you fell into my arms earlier.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked. “That’s funny because I wanted to do this.”

Then she leaned forward and caught his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently. The sensation shot from his mouth straight through his body. He growled before grabbing her hips and pulling her into his lap. This time there was nothing simple about the kiss. It was all tongues and teeth and wandering hands.

“Wait,” she panted, pulling back. “Oliver, wait.”

“Too fast?” he huffed, doing his best to calm down, which was not easy considering Felicity’s position on his lap.

“No, I mean, kind of, but that’s not really why I stopped you,” she said, “What are we doing? This could get very complicated with you being you and me being… me. Unless this is just sex, then I suppose it could be very simple. I just like knowing where I stand. I like you and I don’t mind complicated, but if you just want easy, I understand…”

Oliver cut her off with another kiss. 

“Felicity, I like you too. I’m good with complicated if you are,” he told her. He honestly didn’t think he could be anything but all in with her.

Her face broke out into the most perfect smile he ever saw.

“Let’s make things complicated.”

 

Two years later

Tommy stood in his best friend’s apartment, waiting for Oliver to come downstairs, staring at a large, black and white canvas photo on the wall. When Tommy had met Felicity Smoak almost two years earlier, he knew she was it for his friend. He’d never seen Oliver smile like he did when he looked at her. Or thought about her, or talked about her or… to say the man was smitten was an understatement. 

Being Oliver’s agent as his rise in the art world began had allowed Tommy the opportunity to see the way Oliver’s work had grown throughout the years. Now, at the height of his career, Oliver was putting out the most innovative and evocative images that Tommy had ever seen and Tommy knew that Felicity was a big part of his inspiration. 

This, though, this photo in front of him, was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was clearly taken by Oliver, but Tommy knew Oliver had never used it in any of his shows. The photo was of Felicity in just Oliver’s dress shirt, sitting in front of a window with a cup of coffee in her hand. Her body was facing the window, but her head was turned to look at the camera. 

There was nothing revealing about it, yet the sensuality the photo conveyed was powerful. Felicity’s smile, the love in her eyes, however, is what had Tommy transfixed. He’d never seen her like that before.

“Hey man,” Oliver called, jogging down the stairs. “You ready? Don’t want to be late for my own engagement party.” 

Tommy glanced over and smirked at the sappy grin plastered all over Oliver’s face. He’d never seen a man so happy to be getting married before.

Pointing at the canvas on the wall, Tommy asked, “Why haven’t I ever seen this one before? It’s incredible.”

Oliver looked up at the photograph and his grin grew impossibly bigger. “That one doesn’t belong in a show.”

“But...” Tommy started. Oliver cut him off.

“Nope,” he told him. “That one is just for me.”

"How did you get her to smile like that," Tommy persisted.

Oliver's face broke out into the biggest, cheesiest grin Tommy had ever seen before he said, "I just told her I love her."


End file.
